


Bound and Stranded

by Cherry_Sofa_729



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dehydration, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Octopus Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Protective Deceit | Janus Sanders, Serious Injuries, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Tentacles, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Sofa_729/pseuds/Cherry_Sofa_729
Summary: Remus just wanted a nice swim in the imagination, he didn’t think he’d end up wrapped in garbage and struggling to survive.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Bound and Stranded

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before Janus’ name reveal but I still love it so here ya go

In hindsight, maybe he should’ve told someone where he was. 

Remus didn’t care though, not as he did another flip through the water and propelled himself forward. 

The imagination was gorgeous today. The sky was a clear blue, the water dark and a perfect chill for the hot day. The island he had been vacationing on was full of soft sandy beaches and leafy palm trees. 

It was his chill day. He had one a month, completely alone to do some sweet self care. 

AKA this island was a replica of the one in the short story “the most dangerous game” and Remus was hunting people for sport. Fake people, of course.

But now he was going for a swim. To stretch his tentacles. 

He wasn’t the most aerodynamic, his tentacles weren’t his legs or anything. They came out of his back. Eight thick, wiggling tentacles that were about as long as he was tall, and as thick as a telephone pole. 

He kicked forward, tentacles propelling him with a big gush.

He loved shooting through the water, fast as a barracuda. The woosh of the crystal clear water running by his ears. How he could breath so easily through the gills by his neck. 

He loved the ocean. It was his second home, and his first love. How dare people abuse it?! Like the South Pacific Garbage Patch. He couldn’t believe people dumped enough plastic to make an island of mess. 

Those poor turtles and fish, and god the octopus’ being stuck in plastic rings and fishing nets. Usually he loved garbage, but not in the ocean. An island of mess wasn’t his idea of a good time at all. 

He swam out further, farther from land. 

He felt something rough and scratchy brush against a tentacle.

He whirled around, only to feel a whoosh as that something was dragged by his tentacles. Something that was hooked around them. 

His tentacles began to squirm, thrash, as he got caught in thick rope. 

What was this? What was happening?! 

He felt his movements getting tighter, more trapped. Then, came a squeezing sensation around his tentacles. 

He reached up and over, grabbing the end of a fishing net. 

When I said I was into bondage this is not what I meant. Remus thought as panic entered his gut. 

“God dammit imagination.” He huffed. 

See, the thing with the imagination, especially Remus’ side, was that anything you thought of had a chance of appearing. 

Garbage suddenly flooded the ocean.

He kicked wildly, only getting his foot caught in a plastic drink ring. He coughed. The water stunk like sewage. It wasn’t going through his gills well, making it hard to breath. He kicked, paddling through the water. His back was heavy with the fishing net restraining his tentacles, with every twist and turn it closed tighter around them.

He hissed in pain. The net had gotten so tangled it was rubbing the delicate flesh raw with every move. 

He sunk lower. Thank god he could breath underwater.

An old tire went around his legs like a floaty and he mangled to kick free as best he could. Everywhere he turned there was more plastic. More garbage. 

Something tickled his foot. He screamed, letting out a stream of bubbles and kicked away, only to find a plastic bag. But that motion got his arms covered in trash. 

Great.  He thought, trying to pry his arms apart from the plastic drink ring handcuffs.  The only way this could get worse would be-

He was cut off by the roar of an engine. 

Headed straight for him. 

A BOAT! 

He screamed, diving lower to avoid the getting hit. 

But soon after the boat slowed to a stop. 

Yes!  Remus sighed with relief.  Help is here.

Concentrating hard, he managed to wiggle his hips enough to generate some type of upward motion. He winced in pain. The garbage rubbed at his skin and the flesh of his tentacles, making each movement sting, and the filthy water made the cuts burn. 

Still, desperation overcame him and he struggled up. 

Breaking the surface, he took in gulps of crisp, clear air. 

He looked up at the shiny white of the yacht. Angling his head, he could just see the driver on the deck. The driver wasn’t a side, wasn’t anyone he recognized. “Hey!” He called. 

The driver didn’t react. 

“Hey!” Remus called louder. “Over here, in the water!”

Still nothing. Frustrated now, Remus used a powerful thrust of his legs and shot upwards, clinging onto the metal railing of the deck of the yacht. His hands were still stuck in that dang ring, but he managed. He grit his teeth in pain, muscles screaming, as he flopped over. 

What he didn’t see on the deck was the container of gasoline. 

Smack.  He hit the container and it’s foul-smelling contents poured over the dock and into his face! 

The oil stung his eyes and clogged up every pore, seeping into his gills. He slipped, skidding across the puddle as he desperately tried to stay up. “Help!” He called. “Please help me!” He thrashed, trying to find something to hold onto-

With a wet plop, he fell off the side of the yacht. 

The oil momentarily left his face as he dunked under the water. But as he resurfaced…

The gasoline had floated to the top of the water like the film the forms on the top of old milk. And as Remus resurfaced that film clung to his skin, covering his mouth and his eyes, plugging his nose till all he could feel was slick, slippery, smelly oil. 

He barely had time to collect his thoughts before the whir of an engine started again. With a huge roar, Remus was blown back in a whirlpool as the propeller started right by his face. He couldn’t fight out of the stream. 

So, he got swept under the boat. Unable to resist, his head smacked the hull. 

He felt a blinding pain and then everything faded. 

————

He was drifting. Face up, tentacles bound, legs restrained, and hands cuffed, he drifted through the ocean. 

Remus opened his eyes. Ouch. The sunlight hurt. 

Everything hurt, actually. His head especially. A sharp, splitting pain racked through his brain. 

He coughed. The stench of oil, dried and crusty on his face, stung his nose. It coated him, being pulled with the tide. 

How long had he been out? Judging by the sun low on the horizon, it was about 7 pm. He had started swimming just past noon this morning-

Seven hours?! Fucking hell. 

Of course, it had only been seven hours in the imagination. Here, he could have his own time schedule, separate to the mind palace. 

Which meant nobody was concerned with his whereabouts. 

Shit. 

He noticed he was covered in less plastic now. It must’ve drifted off of him as he floated around aimlessly. He still was caught, unable to move due to the fishing net around his tentacles. 

His eyelids felt heavy as his skin and bones ached. He was shockingly thirsty. God, if only it was freshwater he was stranded in.

He could put water in his mouth if he could fucking move his hands! They had to use hand motions in order to summon things. 

And if he could move his hands, he could put food in his stomach. 

He groaned a little as his stomach growled.

This would be a while. 

————

Hours later, his muscles had cramped up. He was painfully thirsty and hungry. The chill of the night only aggravated his problems. 

He shivered, attempting to fight again out of his bonds. The ropes and plastic tugged painfully, rubbing him raw. Then he sneezed. And sneezed again. Oil dripped into his mouth and he coughed, phlegm coming up with it. 

He was so tired. His mouth was so dry. His stomach roared with hunger. This was the worst shape he had ever been in and he had a milkshake-chugging contest with Patton. 

He’s lactose intolerant. 

If only he could have some water. That would make everything alright again. If he could quench his thirst everything would be okay. 

His splitting head had subsided to a dull ache. It still hurt like mad, but it was quite a bit better. 

Don’t focus on that.  He thought.

Instead, he looked up at the night sky. A deep, inky black, painted with glowing white stars. It was always more beautiful here, where he could make it beautiful, where he could control it. 

The sky was swirling. He noticed. Swirling and pulsing, and kinda going black at the edges. 

Hmm. That was odd. 

————

Remus was going mad. 

He was alone with his thoughts. But they weren’t very straightforward or sane in the best of circumstances, and this was the worst of circumstances. 

He could feel his mind fracturing into small fragments and scattering across the vast, vast ocean. 

It had been so long. So long just drifting, completely alone. 

_ Is this going to be the rest of my life?  He mused.  What if I never get rescued? What if I die? What if I become a corpse all swollen and rotten in the water? _

_ What if I lose my tentacles? _

A lump formed in his throat and it wasn’t from dehydration. He loved his tentacles. They were his freedom. He couldn’t bear to lose that part of himself. 

_ I just want to feel okay. It hurts.  _

He coughed weakly. 

_I want to be free. Help me. Help me please._

————

Had it been hours or days? Remus didn’t know. 

The morning sun started rising. And with it came a gentle hum from far away. 

No, not a hum. A lapping, like waves against a beach. 

He coughed, then sneezed. 

A shadow suddenly covered him. A shadow of a boat. 

A boat? A boat?! 

He looked over. He knew that boat! Right by his face was the curvy, engraved lettering of the  SS PRINCY , Roman’s small sailboat!

Help was here! Help had come! 

And it was leaving quickly. 

“Hey!” His voice cracked like he swallowed sand. “Down here! Help, help please!”

————

Roman smiled. The salty air, the clear water, Remus really had made such a nice imagination for them. 

Over the quiet, he heard a shout. Then several shouts. Like someone was stranded in the water. 

Roman leaned over the side and saw-

“Remus?!” 

There, in the water, completely wrapped up in garbage, covered in gasoline, was Remus. 

“Help.” He said weakly. 

“Oh my god what happened to you? Is that a net around your tentacles?”

“Help me please!”

“Your beautiful tentacles…” Roman muttered, eyes swelling with tears. Distraught, he instantly reached out and grabbed the net. 

The duke shrieked, thrashing as best he could, as the rope ripped open the tender flesh and blood poured over the tentacles, staining the water red. 

Roman quickly let him go.

“No, no!” Remus’ voice was so dry. “Get me onto the boat, I don’t care if it hurts!” He couldn’t stand being out here a second longer. 

Roman grit his teeth and pulled his brother into the boat. 

Remus screamed. A horrible sound, like a wounded dog. Oh god it hurt, surely they wouldn’t survive this…

The red blood slid over the slick hull, mixing with the oil now running down his face. 

“Get me out of this! Please!” He begged, eyes filling with tears as shoots of pain roared through his back. 

“I can’t!” Roman was shaking, absolutely horrified. “I don’t have scissors!” He fumbled with the ropes to the sail, quickly turning on the emergency motor and they spread away to shore. 

Roman put Remus’s head in his lap as the side whimpered in pain. He coughed, spitting up phlegm and oil, before letting out a broken, crying whine. 

He began to sob. Chest heaving, tears poured out of his eyes, crying the last of the water in his body. 

Roman let his hands gently card through his twin’s hair. To console, to relax, to maybe ease some of the pain. 

“Sleep. Go to sleep, Remus, it’s alright. I’m taking you home.”

He looked up at his brother, the sunlight blurring like a halo around his face, the soft hands grounding him, feeling warm and steady. 

“Sleep, okay? Look, here.” He pressed Remus closer to his chest. “Feel my heartbeat? Just focus on that. I’m getting you home, your prince is here!” 

Remus nodded, collapsing into his lap. 

————

Roman burst through the door. “Help! Help me please!”

Logan jumped out of his chair. “Jesus Christ!” He screamed, gazing at the bundle that was Remus. 

Patton shrieked, a complete look of horror on his face. Roman gently laid Remus on the carpet of their living room, belly down. 

Remus moaned as he felt solid ground beneath him. Something rustled by his side and he turned his head to see Virgil, picking off whatever garbage was loose enough. 

His eyes were transformed with paranoia, hands shaking. “ God what happened to you?! ” He said, voice deep and demonic. 

Patton sat on his knees in front of Remus’ face, gently running his hands through his tangled hair. “Lo’s gonna free you, okay? He’ll cut you out of this.” He swallowed, tense. Remus felt the looming form of Logan over his back, deciding where to cut first. “It might hurt, okay?” Patton said quietly. “But just… just look at me, and breathe, and-“ 

Logan lifted up a tentacle. 

Remus shrieked, arching his back away from Logan, tentacles squirming and convulsing in their binds. It hurt so bad it blinded, he squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving. His tentacles were being stretched out and he tried to twist away in desperation. 

“Patton, hold him still.” Lo snapped, too stressed and in the zone to worry about his comfort. 

“Squidling, you can’t move, okay?” Soothing words he could barely make out and a hand pushing him back on his stomach stopped him from moving. Then a weight fell on his thighs. What was happening? What were they going to do to him? “Breathe with me. That’s it.”

Logan picked up the tentacle again. Remus let out a shrill whine. “NO!” He yelped, it dissolving into whimpered cries. His eyes rolled back into his head, voice leaving him in his pain.

Snip. Snip. 

“Patton please.” He sobbed desperately. He just wanted the pain to stop. “Please let me go.”

“Shh baby. Logan’s helping you.”

He didn’t care about that. He cared that the pain needed to stop. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

Each tentacle was painstakingly lifted and cut free. Roman and Virgil tugged off the pieces of net, revealing bloody, torn tissue. 

Remus’ cries had became weak, softer as the squeezing sensation faded. He didn’t have energy left to cry. 

Suddenly the worst pain he had ever felt in his life ripped through one of his tentacles. It spasmed, twitching, as Remus screamed. Screamed so loud his voice went horse and he fell into a coughing fit. 

Logan watched as the tentacle convulsed, withering and clenching like an earthworm when you pick it up. “Fuck it’s cramping.” He cursed as Patton shoved him out of the way. 

The moral side took it, fingers tenderly stretching and pulling, finding the strain and gently massaging the knot out. He clicked his tongue in sympathy. “There, is that better?” 

Relief flooded through Remus again, nodding weakly as he collapsed onto the carpet. 

Logan pulled out more and more net, sometimes revealing bits of plastic tangled up in it as well. 

At the end, he was free. 

They had managed to save his tentacles. He wasn’t going to lose them. 

Remus sobbed, limbs going limp, barely moving except for spasms and twitches. He held up his hands as Logan cut the plastic drink ring cuffing him, and the plastic around his ankles and legs. 

Free. 

“Roman, run a shower.” Virgil scooped up the duke, making sure not to touch any sore spots. He coughed, hacking up phlegm and oil. 

Virgil gazed down at him, brow knitted. “A warm shower.”

Roman obeyed and Patton snapped off Remus’ soaking swim shorts. They didn’t mind him naked, they saw him completely nude when they weren’t trying to help. 

They placed Remus down, bent over and back under the stream of hot water. He shut his eyes and moaned with both pain and relief. He opened his mouth, hungrily drinking up the fresh water. 

His stomach hurt with hunger. It growled and roared like a beast in a cage. 

“We need to clean the cuts or they’ll get infected.” Virgil said, snapping off his own clothes and getting in the tub with Remus. 

He took the showerhead, angling it over the rubbed cuts on his tentacles. 

“We’ll disinfect it when he get out. Wash the oil off of him.”

Gasoline and blood slowly dripped off, mixing and swirling down the drain. More of that freckled face and moustache, messy hair and wild eyes got revealed. 

“Hey Rem. I’m gonna use shampoo now, okay? Tilt your head back.”

He did, and soft bubbly soap was worked through his hair. It smelt like cocoa. Virgil brushed his hair out of his eyes and Remus winced. 

“Something hurt?” He asked, looking closer at Remus’ forehead. 

A massive purple bruise spanned across the left side of his head. 

“Oh shit.” He sucked in a nervous breath, waving the others forward. 

They all looked at the bruise and the glassy, unfocused look in Remus’ eyes. “That’s concussion material right there.” Roman said, biting his lip. 

“How’s your head, Rem?” Virgil asked. 

“Hurts.”

“Patton, dim the lights.”

“On it.” Luckily, due to Roman’s tendency for romantic self-care evenings, the bathroom had dimmer switches. 

The lights were darkened and Remus sighed with relief. 

His mind suddenly wandered to his tentacles. His precious, aching tentacles. He couldn’t bare to lose the only thing he truly loved about himself. 

He attempted to lift them off the tub. 

He couldn’t make them move a single inch. “Virgil.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t move my tentacles.”

They all froze. 

“I’m not gonna lose them right? I love them, I can’t lose them!”

“Remus, can you feel this?” Logan ran a finger down the slimy expanse of the tentacle. 

“Yes…”

“I think your muscles are just overworked, love.”

“Oh. Okay.” He shut his eyes again, relishing in the feel of warm water on his aching body. He was cleaned gently, too tired to resist the soap. 

“There. You’re all clean. Let’s get you disinfected.” Logan snapped on plastic gloves and Virgil grabbed a towel off the rack. 

He gently patted Remus’ body down to dry him without hurting him any more or getting fluff stuck to his wounds. 

Logan stuck out his hand. “Rubbing alcohol and bandages.” Roman got him the bottle and soft cotton gauze. He unrolled the spool, dabbing a cotton ball in the disinfectant. “This will sting.” He said simply, wiping the ball across the bloody, fleshy wound. 

It burned. “HOLY MOTHER OF-“ he cursed, lurching away from Logan. 

“Remus, you need to stay still.”

Slowly, the sting, like the hunger and thirst, blended together till it was a constant sharp ache. Then came the softness of bandages, painstakingly wrapped around the wounds and taped so they wouldn’t shift. Up and down his legs, his wrists, and all over his back of course. 

“How’s that feel?” 

“Good. Can I have water and food? Please? Mostly water. Please. Can I please have water?”

“Of course Squidling! Hold still.” Patton summoned a squeezable water bottle and helped the duke drink as much as he could. 

He sighed, beyond overjoyed, as the dryness of his mouth was vanquished. 

“How about clothes?” 

With a snap, Remus was dressed in a loose green shirt and black shorts. He hummed to himself, placing a hand over his stomach as it growled rather loudly. 

“Oh poor thing you must be starving!” Patton cooed as Remus nodded rapidly. 

Logan adjusted his glasses. “Let’s get some food in you. Can you stand?” 

The duke stood, vision immediately going out of whack. His head spun and he nearly tumbled over. 

“Woo! Concussions are no joke!” He chirped. “I’m as wobbly as a blind tightrope walker in a hurricane!” He took a step and winced as his tentacles dragged across the rough floor. 

He jumped as he felt a hand on the sensitive appendage. He turned and saw Virgil gently picking up two tentacles. 

He helped to lift and curl them in as best he could, Virgil positioning the tips against his shirt. The suckers clung to it like a lifeline. “Keep them there.”

He moved every tentacle to grip his shirt. “Perfect. Hold them.”

They helped keep him steady, holding onto his arms as they walked to the kitchen. 

Over the course of an hour, Remus was given a lot of food. Slowly, of course, he didn’t want to get sick. 

“Patton-“ he was cut off by another spoonful of stew being shoved into his mouth. The food was wonderfully warm and thick, he could feel it plopping into his stomach. “I’m full, you’re gonna make me burst like a balloon and then there’d be blood and guts everywhere.”

“Okay honey. Just one more?”

“Patton. He’s had enough.”

“Fine. I just want to make sure you’re healthy!”

“Yes, but now I think it’s time for sleep, okay?”

Remus nodded. Something tickled his nose and he burst into a sneezing fit. 

Virgil furrowed his brow. “You feeling okay?” 

He shook his head. “I feel kinda shitty.” He coughed, a deeper cough than before, a kind of cough that racked his chest and made it ache. 

Patton clicked his tongue. “Oh that’s not good.” He put a hand on Remus’ forehead, careful of the bruise. “At least you’re not burning up. But that cough will turn into strep if we’re not careful.” 

“Which means a good night’s rest.” Logan said sternly. 

“You were in that water a long time, huh? Making you sick.”

Remus sucked in a whole bunch of snot. “Yeah.” He sounded nasally and stuffed up. “You probably wanna talk about what happened though.” 

“In the morning. We’ll talk in the morning. You to get to sleep.” 

He nodded, standing shakily, heading upstairs to his room. 

His legs wobbled as he stumbled into the wall. He reached his door with the nicks in the wood and threw it open. 

His nest was a huge circular pillow piled high with a million blankets. And right now, it seemed like the best place in the world. Warm, soft, and dry. 

He fell into it. Literally collapsed. Laying on his side or stomach made sure his tentacles didn’t hurt any worse. He was cradled by the pillow. His mind hadn’t been this quiet since he split. Grappling for a blanket, he tugged it up and over his back, careful of the bandages. 

A little bit of water trickled out of his ear. He sneezed, wiping snot on another blanket. The others would say he was gross, but he didn’t care. He was too tired to move at all. 

A soft creak came from across the room, so soft his muddled brain could barely make it out. Then came a voice. 

“Remus? You awake?”

He knew that voice. “Snaky?” He mumbled, almost asleep. 

“Nope, it’s Ellen Degeneres.” Janus sat on the edge of the nest, a sympathetic look on his face. “They told me everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

He pushed himself up onto the pillows so he could look at Janus better. “What were you doing?”

“Some very  important , very  riveting , scheduling work. I had the unfortunate accident of soundproofing my room to prevent distractions.” 

“That was chocked full of lies.”

“Possibly. How are you?”

“Hurt.” He sucked in more snot. “Sick. Like a infested piece of meat, withering with maggots and beaten to a bloody pulp.” He sniffed. His nose wouldn’t stop running. 

“Sweetie, blow your nose.” Janus took a tissue and held it to his face, having him blow out into it. “As for what’s happened to you, that’s  incredible .” He said sarcastically, throwing out the tissue. 

“It fucking sucks. Apparently I have a concussion.”

“That’s  fortunate.” 

“I spent a really long time in the ocean all tangled up. I was quite thirsty. Hungry too. Mostly thirsty, though.”

“We can talk when you wake. Lay down, darling. Get some rest.”

“I was gonna do that until you interrupted me.” He settled back down into the pillow. 

Jan chuckled. “Goodnight, Remus.”

With a wave, he summoned Remus’ giant octopus plushie, knowing he always slept better with Cthulhu. 

Remus made a noise of content, hugging Cthulhu close and nuzzling into his soft fur. 

“Would you like me to pet your hair?” 

He nodded, and soon felt soft gloved hands run through his hair. His mouth gently fell open, mind numbing except for  warm soft dry,  exhausted limbs loose and boneless as he fell into a deep sleep. 

And if Janus stayed there for hours, watching and making sure he slept peacefully, safe and sound, well no one would have to know that


End file.
